The Faded Apartment
The air in the cellar of the old manor house did not merely sit; it accumulated, a thick, gelatinous substance that pressed against the skin and coated the lungs with the taste of damp earth and decaying wood. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the room, his hands trembling not from cold, though the temperature was a biting, persistent chill, but from the sheer, overwhelming weight of the...
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